


It's the Little Things

by Miutinichisheno



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic)
Genre: Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I needed something light to work on alongside Panic Cord, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miutinichisheno/pseuds/Miutinichisheno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the Dark Avengers era, the hijinks of Daken and Bullseye and how everyone else knew what was going on between them before they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Little Things

The docks, of course Norman would send him to terrorise a small group that were causing trouble. But it couldn't be under the guise of Hawkeye, it had to be Bullseye. The fear, blood and piss was tangible in the air, only one needed to be slain by a card to the throat and all knew their time was up. Killing them all seemed the logical option, wipe them all out, leave no trace, no future trouble. But Osborne wanted to rule with fear. Leave one, just barely alive mind you, but he needs to live and make sure the terror is remembered by all. As Bullseye scraped at dried wax that irritated his ear, he couldn't help but wonder if he was letting someone else take credit for _his_ beautiful work. No one else could do what he could like he could. He knew that he could slaughter Osborne at the drop of a hat, but he was enjoying the perks too much. That was enough. For now. Not like he was the only one wondering why he was dealing with good ol' Stormin' Norman. He was a pathetic man who scrambled for power and authority but could barely exert any over himself. Really, Lester considered flicking the flake of wax at the unconscious survivor, that all the 'Avengers' just had front row seats to the inevitable and potentially greatest fallout in history.

He smirked as he looked down at the survivor, he was pleased with his work. The boy would probably never walk again, but he would always remember, always watch his back- the hell was that? Lester looked up, blinking as he found himself watching a seagull plodding around surveying the carnage. What was it Daken had said that time they were at the pier? They walk like an upper middle class drunk woman in high heels.  
_“Look at this thing.” Daken laughed, pointing out a seagull cawing loudly at a man it'd tried to take a fry from. “It looks like it's hungover.” Lester looked at him incredulously, wondering why he was so cheerful, let alone making such odd small talk._  
 _“The fuck are you talking about?”_  
 _“Say that we call this one Jemima. Jemima has travelled to a party overnight and got so drunk she missed her stop on the tube, she's on the wrong side of town, completely disorientated and struggling with those heels she promised herself she'd take off on the way home. Jemima has also maxed out daddy dearest's credit card and thus can't call for a taxi home. She got accepted to college, but she decided to take a year out travelling, this was how she maxed out his card. So now she wanders the streets, a wayward girl trying desperately not to break her heels, unaware that one already snapped hours ago.”_  
 _The worst part was that he could see it._  
  
He tilted his head watching it, it's gait and stride awkward looking as though it might topple any moment. There had been food around at one point, and now that nothing was moving it took its chance, not that New York seagulls were particularly bashful around humans. Birds weren't supposed to walk, Lester had concluded this years ago, it was endearing when little birds hopped around or tried to make like roadrunner, but when birds were over a certain size it was unnerving. It found a burger bun and in one go, swallowed it, hacking back and forcing the bread down it's throat. It was almost comical to watch, something out of a cartoon rather than reality.  
He wasn't sure what compelled him, but he pulled out his phone and began recording the seagull. It swaggered around, veering towards the remnant of a particularly greasy hot dog, and sure as shit swallowed the whole thing, despite it almost being as big as the bird itself. _Perfect_ .

Daken's phone buzzed, he didn't look up from his book as he grabbed it. Only one person messaged him at this time of night. It was a message with a video attachment. Quirking a brow, he read the text: _Is this thing related to you?_ It could have meant anything. None of it would be flattering of course, but still, sometimes Lester's attempts at humour worked.  
“Take it all Jemima ya filthy whore.” The tinny recording blared as a seagull essentially deep throated a hot dog. If he'd taken a drink of his tea, he might have spat it out all over his book. Sometimes it paid off to have inside jokes.

`` **If you're really that desperate you just had to ask dear. I think Jemima's technique is a little off but bless her she's trying her level best.  
****Better than yours**  
**Oh please, I'm not that sloppy and you know it. Do you need a reminder? This book is a little dry for me tonight. I take it you're done.**  
**Aw, Princess, is this you telling me you miss me?**  
**I'm flattered you remembered about Jemima. I was worried it went over your head.**  
**I can't look at seagulls the same ever again**  
**Then you're just not ready for Greg and Helen.**  
**Who the fuck are Greg and Helen?**  
**They're the pigeons. Greg's struggling to get noticed by his boss as adequate in his high flying accounting firm. He's getting there but he's just not good enough for a promotion. Helen must suffer the brunt of it whenever he comes home. Always fluttering around her, hoping that having a good fuck will take away the misery, but even his wife pushes him away. How can she possibly tell him that she's secretly fucking Dominic. ON nights when she can't be bothered to tell him to fuck off they do it covers up, lights off, so they don't have to see the disappointment in each other's eyes. Married life wasn't meant to be like this. Both either too stupid or too proud to get a divorce, but who are they kidding they can't afford it anyway. If only Greg would get his fucking act together and get that promotion.**  
**Daken what the hell is wrong with you?**  
**I'm bored and I've had to listen to Norman droning on about his plans for the future. For a split second, I was worried this was actually Hell. And then Loki smirked at me and I knew it wouldn't be for much longer.**  
**Does princess need rescuing from her tower?**  
**Please, I'm not the princess I'm the dragon. And dragon wants to tease the 'knight' so get your ass home before I consider Venom eligible.**  
**You wouldn't.**  
**Try me.**

He wanted to call his bluff, but he knew that Daken was sick enough to do it just because he said he wouldn't. He'd heard enough narration about birds, he could only begin to dread the narration about that sexual encounter.

**Author's Note:**

> The story of Jemima, Greg and Helen all came from tired after work hilarity that my flat-mate and I came up with. I regret nothing.


End file.
